Ships
by Neoslate
Summary: Despite the advent of hex-technology across Valoran, many still utilise traditional forms of transport to get to different places and and do different things. This is a series of short stories about the ocean and the many who choose to traverse it all over the world of Runeterra.
1. Chapter 1: Kayle

**A/N:** Hey guys It's Neo here again with something a little different in this new series of short stories based around ships (as in boats not relationships). I hope you guys enjoy this first entry and, of course, if there are any spelling or grammar errors please point them out in a review or just review if you enjoyed it :)

DISCLAIMER: I do not own League of Legends and all places mentioned and some key characters are intellectual property of Riot Games

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Chapter 1: Kayle

The ship lurched as another wave viciously battered the wooden prow. The timbers yawned and sighed in protest as angry winds lashed at the sails of the clipper. It had not been a long journey but the squall they were in now had complicated things quite a bit. It was because of this fact that there was no one below deck when Kayle entered the kitchen. Unaffected by the violent swaying of the ship she effortlessly glided over the wooden floor, relishing the opportunity to unleash her wings. Upon reaching the pantry she opened the door and pulled out a bread roll, some cheese, some butter and a few slices of sliced ham. The smell of the fresh food caused her mouth to water due to the recent bout of malnutrition she had had to endure since boarding the cutter. She devoured the hastily made sandwich before moving quickly for the door at which point she paused.

In her moment of bliss she had almost forgotten the other stowaway aboard. She had discovered a little human girl called Emma within her first day on the ship. Her family had been merchants from Piltover up until, upon a dangerous trade route between Bandle City and Ionia, their ship had been sunk in a vicious pirate attack. All the inhabitants of the merchant vessel had gone down with the tea cutter, all except Emma. She had washed up on the Ionian mainland and by sheer luck had managed to survive long enough to board a ship to Piltover to be reunited with the remaining members of her family. She had been in worse conditions than Kayle and for much longer so the Judicator dashed back and grabbed a few things for the poor child to munch on.

She made her way through the ship swiftly, despite stopping several times due to the shouts of the sailors on the decks above. Before long she reached the steps down to the Hold where both her and Emma had been hiding, stowed away among the ship's cargo. It was a constant worry for the angel that they would be caught so they had moved often, sneaking around the ship when most were asleep or above deck. Then came the prospect of actually leaving the ship without them being caught. She had lost sleep often worrying about the troubles the duo had to face in the future.

Making her way down the steps carefully she heard the rapid splashes of her companion as she clumsily made her way to the Judicator in the violently rocking ship. Kayle had not yet revealed herself as an angel to the young child, obscuring the visage of her wings with her magic. It drained her energy but her identity could not be revealed to the mortals. Her mission could become compromised if she did so and failure was definitely not an option. She needed to earn her redemption without the influence of her wings. Without the reminder of _her_. So silently she floated down to land on her feet while reactivating the spell on her wings.

"Miss Kayle did you bring back anything?" A small voice whispered from the bottom of the stairs. A small face appeared there mere seconds later, smiling a toothy grin back at the her guardian standing in the entrance of the hold. At this moment, the grime that covered her face and the malnutrition made her seem like the typical street urchin you would find in any of the many slums on Runeterra. Though below her dirty appearance, her features were actually quite striking. In fact, under better circumstances, she would be regarded as quite a pretty girl amongst the humans.

The angel gave her an endearing smile as she pulled the small amount of food she carried with her from behind her back. She almost laughed aloud as the girl scrambled up the stairs to give her waist a colossal hug before taking the meal ravenously and darting back down the stairs. She paused when she hit the bottom looking back up to the Judicator as if saying "don't leave."

Understanding the motion, Kayle followed her down to the spot they had elected to stay for the day, a grouping of barrels roped together in a small 'U' shape. Since they had overheard news of the squall from one of the louder sailors, they had chosen a spot close to the trapdoor of the hold so should the worst occur, then an avenue to withdraw would be present for them. Kayle pushed over some loose crates on which Emma would be able to sit on while she ate.

"Thank you Miss," the young girl said as the angel stretched her back after the effort. "Can I sit on your lap though, Miss? The wood hurts."

"Most certainly Emma." Honestly, she was grateful for the respite of sitting. In their current states, even standing around for very long was exhausting. Of course her earlier snack would rejuvenate her a bit but she knew that unless their circumstances changed remarkably then the constant fatigue would continue. Especially while keeping her wings hidden. At least the human girl wasn't as heavy as she appeared and the warmth of her body was always welcome.

Her drowsiness seemed to catch up with her and she could feel sleep tugging at her eyelids as Emma finished the makeshift sandwich and started to snuggle into her chest. "Hmmmm your coat is always so warm and fluffy Miss Kayle," came the small voice at her chest.

It was all Kayle could do but chuckle at the comment. To all but the most skilled in the magical arts, her wings seemed like a big coat rather than their usual impressive visage. "Well enjoy it, little one, always appreciate the good moments no matter how small they are," she replied with a yawn. She allowed the small girl to wrap herself with one wing as the darkness of sleep began fog her vision. She fell asleep with one last smile to one last comment by the figure resting on her chest.

"I think you're... the 'Guardian Angel' Mommy... always... talked about..."

* * *

They woke to the awful cracking of timbers and a powerful spray of sea water on their faces as a particularly jagged rock burst through the starboard hull of the ship. Kayle knew they were in danger and when she looked down into the face of young Emma she knew that the child knew too. They scrambled onto their feet as another grinding crack could be heard from further down the hold. They began a rush for the door in a manic panic as water flowed rapidly into the cutter already reaching knee height and rapidly rising.

"Quickly child!" She yelled above the roaring torrent.

"I'm trying but it's rising too quick!" replied the young girl frantically.

It seemed by sheer chance that their elected sleeping area for the night was nearby to the exit. They had only to scramble up the steps to the doorway to be free but even that seemed an effort. By the time they even reached the steps the water had reached Kayle's chest, inundating Emma and making the struggle to drag herself and the small child to safety all the more difficult. The few minutes it took to pull themselves to and up the stairs to their temporary freedom seemed like an eternity due to the weight of their dirty clothes and the fatiguing temperature.

Kayle flopped onto the wet floor of the bilge dragging Emma with her, exhausted from her struggle to escape the death trap below. She lay there for a moment on her back, panting, before she once again willed herself into action. Sitting up, she quickly closed the trapdoor, stemming the rising of the water around them marginally but enough to make their plight significantly easier. She then turned her gaze upon the young girl who was now crouched up into a ball against the wall. A brief feeling of pity ran through the angel as she realised how traumatising this must be for the girl.

"No... not again..." Kayle could hear her mutter.

Mustering her strength, she scooped the girl up in her arms and did her best to make her way upward toward the top deck of the ship. She could hear the rattle of the life boats being lowered and the cracking of the timbers as the cutter began breaking apart beneath their feet. She quickened her pace to a run so as not to miss their opportunity to steal a position on one of the lifeboats.

Though it was all in vain as a crack opened the belly of the boat like an enormous fissure. One of the sailors must have been on deck when it opened as a scream rang out into the storm followed quickly by the vista of a man's falling body and the sickening squelch of it breaking on the jagged rocks below. Meanwhile the fissure had cut off the female duo from the route of escape and presented Kayle with a rather large dilemma as both halves of the boat teetered on edge of total annihilation. She looked down upon the tide as it retreated to reveal the body of the fallen sailor, a jagged pointy rock protruding through his back and up through his chest, a silent scream permanently etched upon his face. At the sight of it, Kayle made her decision.

She stood Emma upon her feet as she crouched and lowered herself to face the catatonic child. With a harsh slap to the cheek she got the inadvertent attention of the child before giving her a very specific set of instructions, "Climb onto my back and no matter what you do, do not open your eyes darling." The girl could only nod and do as she was told. Kayle felt the weight strain against her thin frame but there was no time to think about such things. She muttered two quick sets of incantations as one last monstrous wave reared up to finish the ship and whatever inhabitants . One to dispel the illusion on her wings and the other to allow her to tap her remaining magic reserves for physical energy. She sprung off the ship as the storm finished what it started, the arms around her neck tightening as her passenger let out a shriek that almost pierced her eardrums.

She knew she would not be able to last but as long as she got Emma away from that accursed scene, she would not care where they landed or whether she survived the landing. And so she struck the ocean air as hard as she could with her wings, sending them higher up the cliffs with each stroke she gave. Focusing solely on that action, she ignored the straining pain in her back and the storm that whipped around them. Knowing they would not be able to make the top of the cliffs she turned suddenly and dove down at great speed, augmented by the extra weight Emma gave. She spread her wings as they approached the remainder of the wreck they had just left and they shot out horizontally in a glide toward the ocean.

She heard a sharp gasp behind her ear as they soared and knew the child had opened her eyes. "Miss Kayle... What... Are... You really are an angel..." The words tumbled from the girl's mouth in amazement as she drank in the scene before her. Emma had only ever dreamed about flying, thinking she would never be like the people with wings, the angels, that her mother had so often spoken of. But here she was, soaring above the ocean, travelling faster that she could have ever imagined, wind whipping the sea spray into her face.

"Yes," replied her saviour, "I am an angel." Banking to her left, Kayle followed the coastline for a few hours, silence overtaking the two girls.

Before long they left the storm behind them, the moon rising ahead. They stayed like that for hours, appreciating the view whilst rushing over the sea's surface until fatigue and malnourishment caused Kayle to slowly drop lower and lower. Descending down onto a beach she had spotted, she let Emma clamber off her back prior to collapsing in a tired heap on the sand. Closing her eyes, she couldn't remember if she had ever been this exhausted in her extremely long lifetime.

Before the exhaustion overtook her she could feel the faint pressure of fists hammering away on her lower back and the faint sounds of sobbing before she made sense of the words that followed.

"Don't you leave me here! You're my guardian angel Miss Kayle! So don't leave me!"

"For as long as you live," she whispered as she gave into the blackness that surrounded her.


	2. Chapter 2: Olaf

Chapter 2: Olaf

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His golden beard swayed. The vicious, subzero winds of his homeland bit deep into his tough skin with a nostalgia he had not felt before in his lifetime. Standing like a sentinel upon the bow of the longship was Olaf, staring out at the vast approaching coastline of the Lofkarian Peninsular. His fierce blue eyes scanned the land for signs of the semi-nomadic camps of his people. Upon seeing the glow of a fire upon the cliffs through the darkening evening, his arm chopped down silently in its direction and the ship lurched in its direction.

His sight gouged into the vista before him like claw to flesh. He took in every crook and cranny of the shoreline . Angry cliffs rose like fearsome maws baring angry teeth like rocks ready to eviscerate the ship and its crew, breaking them upon the land's stony shore. He remembered the harsh winters of his boyhood where only the constant brawls and warm hearths kept the warmth within the hastily constructed longhouses. He recalled the flames that never seemed to end in the centre hearth of the longhouse during the hellish blizzards that ripped at the hardened communities. Life had been hard then but Olaf reminded himself of his position. He had to marshal them. He needed to earn his death. He could not be forgotten.

The ships oars went out, beginning a relentless rhythm that sped the longship across the surface of the frigid sea. Olaf didn't take notice that they were now sailing parallel to the cliffs as he allowed himself to be lost in his memories. Sejuani, the head of the Winter's Claw and his liege, came to his mind as he reminded himself of the mission she had given him. Her words had hit almost as hard as her choice of weapon.

"You will give them a choice. Swear fealty to my cause or be destroyed. You'll not disgrace my presence with failure therefore do not return if you do. Bring me a navy Olaf. Give me my war."

He could not fail so he set as good a plan as he could make. He would offer their leader's a glorious death in Sejuani's tabard or by his axe. _Their leaders..._ his feelings darkened further as he realised how detached he'd become from the customs of his home and his people.

"Captain! Bogr reports movement on the cliffs! What are your orders?" The voice of his first mate interrupted his thoughts and he turned his head slightly so he could glimpse the scrawny man out of the corner of his eye. "I suggest we open fire on these scu-"

Olaf's hand shot out and caught the man's throat in a vice grip that lifted him off the ground before he could finish the sentence. His eyes bulged at the sudden pressure as his hands instinctively clawed feebly at his Captain's wrist. The grip tightened until a sickening squelch came from neck as eyes popped from their sockets and the body went limp.

"Suggestions will be taken as insubordination and will be punished by death," his voice boomed at the crew who had stopped to view the spectacle before he tossed the corpse in his hand into the icy ocean. He recognised where they were and alerted the helmsman of a small inlet a few minutes ahead where they would make land.

For several minutes they sailed, Olaf watching the shadowy figures dart across the top of the cliffs. _Vanguards._ He knew the scouts would report back to the Warchief of their tribe, giving the vital information to the one man with which he needed to bargain. Whether that bargain was struck at the end of his axe or with the traditional clasping of the forearm Olaf was still unsure. The Warchief of the tribe he was about to visit had been unpredictable but incredibly intelligent when Olaf had still lived on the Peninsula. He had aged early on in his tenure as Warchief, the stresses of his duties showing despite the passive expression always plastered on his face. Back then Olaf hadn't understood why such a young man had aged so quickly. _How could leading men to kill things be that difficult,_ He had thought on the few occasions he had met him. Only now did Olaf truly understand the stress of command. The feeling of being entrusted with the very lives of his comrades.

"You better still be there Ysmor," the Berserker muttered to himself as a break in the cliffs gave way to a small beach.

Surprisingly only two very small Longboats could be seen on its shore, both dwarfed by his own. They caused his eyes to narrow in suspicion when he spotted the markings upon them for they were not the markings of Ysmor's Frost Wolves but the other two Lofkarian tribes, the Death Sharks and the Black Beaks. It clicked in his head and the situation became clear. They knew he was coming. For all of them. That was why the Vanguards had only watched. This was a Moot, a meeting of fate where the Warchiefs would decide the destiny of Lofkar. The thought caught Olaf off guard as a Moot had not occurred in centuries if the old sagas held true. He did not expect a reaction as drastic as this and caught himself mid grin as a familiar name once again rose to the forefront of his mind.

As his Longship grounded itself on the soft sand of the beach, Olaf chuckled as he thought to himself. _Ysmor you crazy old bastard. Trust you to pull something like this,_ came the voice in the back of his head. The Winter's Claw warriors rose from their seated positions by the oars, already armed and prepared to disembark into the bitterest of battles. They waited on the command of their captain and commander to jump overboard. Handpicked by Sejuani herself, they were the best troops the Winter's Claw had to offer. Despite only having known the men for but a few weeks, he couldn't help but admire the discipline that had been instilled within them by their Liege.

"Sir! What are your orders?" a booming voice called from the back of the craft. Bogr stood facing Olaf from the back of the ship. The only other Lofkarian amongst his company, Bogr was one of the few, and perhaps the only one, among the crew that understood the full magnitude of the task set ahead of the Berserker. He was an exile just like Olaf but unlike his captain, he had found his way into Sejuani's army through a more ordinary means. He was thickly built just like most of the men of their peoples, even more so than Olaf, but having been forcibly exiled he was clean shaven from head to toe. His old tribal tattoos denoted him as a former member of the Death Sharks, the tribe most affiliated with the ocean, and as such had been one of the best sailors in Sejuani's forces.

He decided to return to more present thoughts before he let him mind wander too far. Sizing up the situation he decided upon his course of action. Giving an old Lofkarian gesture to his associate that meant 'approach' he turned toward the beach as the sailor nodded and drew near from behind him.

"My Captain, what do you require?" the man asked, his voice a deep, gruff rumble that was so characteristic of his people.

"What do you see that is strange about our state of being Bogr?" the Berserker said switching to Lofkarian.

His crewman was silent for several moments, thinking about his answer carefully before he finally spoke. "We saw the Vanguards on the cliffs but we're not halfway up the beach cleaving our way through a small horde of Lofkarian raiders," He said with a growling scoff.

"Ever heard of a 'Moot' Bogr?" inquired Olaf with a strange calmness to his voice.

"Only in the tales that were told to me as a young lad. You don't think that's what's going right now do you?" The bald sailor replied as his captain turned to face him once more with a stone face.

He walked right past the hairless man and addressed the remainder of the crew, leaving Bogr with a confused look on his face. "You will remain here for my signal which will be a fist in the air. Should any man leave this ship, I will personally hunt them down and execute them for insubordination." All crew members wordlessly presented a salute in acknowledgement and Olaf readied himself to disembark. As he leaned over the railing of the longship he spoke his native tongue again to the bald man who instantly picked it up. "You. You come with me."

He dropped silently onto the sand with bare feet and felt it seep between his toes. It was a feeling that he hadn't felt in what seemed like an age. A feeling he had taken for granted all those years ago. A brief pang of regret stung his stomach but he put the feeling aside as he heard Bogr land beside him quietly. He motioned the big man to follow him calmly with a series of small hand movements before he himself began moving cautiously up the beach. He knew they were being watched, the crawling sensation on his skin alerting him to the many eyes that studied the men moving up the beach.

Olaf sized up the forces that could be fit in the small longboats and counted no more than twenty between them. _So they're either Wolf Vanguards or the Warchiefs' guards themselves..._ He thought as his eyes continued to scan the forest on the far side of the beach. They had just passed the halfway mark when three figures seemed to materialise out of the gloom beneath the trees. As they neared he was able to make out their features. They were all aging for Lofkarians, something of a rarity amongst their people. _My people._ Although, they were obviously not old enough to be beaten in a duel. It showed as a testament to their sheer experience in warfare. Olaf knew he could best them all but he had no interest in the command that would follow.

They were all wearing their ceremonial adornments of leadership, one with a patch of wolf fur upon his shoulder, another with a blackened carrion eagle beak on the hilt of his blade and the last with a shark tooth pendant hanging from his neck. The centremost member of the triumvirate stepped forward to initiate the conversation, a grin lighting his face as he began to speak. Olaf recognised him the instant he did.

"Well met old friend," Ysmor called reaching out his hand, "There is much to be discussed."

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 **A/N** : Hey guys! Neoslate here with a little something I wrote a while back. Sorry if it's a little short but still leave a review with your thoughts, I love hearing them :) Until next time :) Ciao!


	3. Chapter 3: Cassiopeia and Talon

Chapter 3: Cassiopeia and Talon

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The small cabin reeked. Rats, rotting wood, sweat and faeces, all of them invading her newfound senses. Though the smell was but one of her problems. The constant rocking of the galleon caused her to roll around on the floor due to the horrid transformation to the lower half of her body. She was still unaccustomed to her disgusting new body and relearning to move around had and had continued to prove difficult. Along with the worst case of sea sickness she swore anyone on Runeterra had ever experienced, 'standing' had proven impossible on the ship. So, for the last few days, she had shamefully resigned herself to sliding, rolling and slithering along the wooden floor to get around her small cabin.

She cursed the day she had ever decided to 'prove' herself to her father. Her sister had always been the favourite. She could do all the things Cass had never been able to. She was strong, deadly and, to Cass's pure dismay, incredibly beautiful. Though Cass would never admit it aloud. Sure she had been just as, if not more, beautiful when she had been in Noxus last, but now everything had changed. Now she could never show her face to the world again, she could never be useful to her House, never make her father proud. She was a hideous disgrace, a terrible monster and never again would she be accepted by those she cared for.

She sobbed. The hacking cries and wails of agony were by now long gone, giving way to the soft, depressing weeping of despair. Memory was a curse now. Still she felt the fire in her veins, the venom coursing through her ensuring she remembered her folly. She had betrayed the wrong person yet again. The first time she had sworn it was just a malicious coincidence but her failure had not been overlooked and she could never forget the disappointment in her father's eyes. That's why she had gone to Shurima. She needed to prove that everything she had achieved wasn't just by sheer luck. She needed to prove that she wasn't the family failure.

A sound interrupted her thought and instantly she recognised the scent. The door closed behind him as he entered silently. A normal person would have never even known he entered but she was no longer a normal person and her heightened senses were not just limited to her sense of smell. They now allowed her to feel motion and see heat in the nearby area. Her hearing was now refined to the point where she could hear an insect land on almost any surfaced. She could even taste through the very air around her. To some this could be seen as a boon but Cassiopeia only wished for things to return to the way they were. To be herself again.

She rolled onto her back as he approached, the remaining tears streaming over her temples and into the dark mass of her hair spilled out underneath her head. She watched the ceiling as he made his way into her field of vision looking down at her with the same impassive face he always wore. His features seemed to sink into the purple hood as he remained still for several moments until she spoke.

"What do you want?" she snapped at him. He remained there for another few moments before bending down and scooping her up in his arms as best he could. "What are you doing?! Put me down!"

He did as he was told but not before he had walked over to the single cot in the corner of the room. Despite her protests, he laid her down gently on the small bed, cradling her head carefully so as not to set off another of the sensory overloads she had been suffering from ever since her metamorphosis. She could do nothing but glare at him. She was powerless and it bothered her. Deeply. Now she no longer had her greatest weapon. She no longer had her looks. She could barely stand let alone appeal to another man. Never had she felt so vulnerable.

She watched him return to the doorway and retrieve a covered bowl. She knew it would be a wretchedly cooked soup of some kind, after all, the light filtering in through the small round window indicated that it was closing in on dinner time. He sat down beside her without a word as he pulled a spoon seemingly from nowhere. She pulled herself roughly up into a seated position as he brought a spoonful up to her mouth. She could taste the pumpkin already, just like the last week and a half. She knew he would have a piece of stale bread hidden away on him to mop up the remainder of the meal.

She studied him while he fed her. His eyes were as sharp as the blade he was renowned for, their piercingly bright amber seemed to burst from them. His clothes were ripped and torn in places after the long journey he took to find her, many elements of the outfit having been replaced or patched. He was rugged due to the enormous trip from Noxus to the very heart of Shurima but it was a look that suited him. Miles of travelling had rendered him gaunt from the many hungry nights he must have suffered in search of her. Despite this weight loss he still appeared wiry, though none of his strength or agility had diminished in the slightest during his travels. Looking at him now, she could almost admire the resolve of the stoic man, even through her own personal distaste for him.

Guilt struck her suddenly as she realised what he must have gone through, by himself, just to reach her, let alone save her and nurse her back to some form of health. He may have been a gutter rat but it was him who saved her. It was him bringing her home now. For the first time since her father brought him home, she saw him for what he was. Not the ruthless street thug that she had always thought he was but the loyal, caring, uncompromising protector that he actually was. It may not have always looked like it but he really did care beneath that unmoving expression.

* * *

After taking the last portion of the soup and feeding it carefully to the young woman, he placed the spoon in the bowl and stood. As he moved away to return to his duties, he could feel a light pressure on his forearm. He turned to look back down at her. She held his forearm with one hand and a firm grip.

"Ssstay," was the only word she uttered. As he looked into her face he noticed tears beginning to well in her already puffy eyes. He knew how harsh it would be to accept the changes in her life, after all he had undergone a similar change when he had been brought into their household. Marcus may have been inclusive but his daughters were an entirely different story. It took years for Katarina to even acknowledge him let alone accept him. With Cassiopeia though, he had never been given that chance and she never let him forget it. So he knew full well what it was like to be an outcast, to feel shunned. She had ensured that. So it was strange yet understandable that she would make any show of affection toward him now.

Dragging himself away from his thoughts, he also pulled away from her grasp and strode over to the door. She let out a pathetic whimper as he left her there on the bed, opened the door and shut it behind him. Always having distanced himself from people, he never allowed himself to feel emotion. It would only get in the way of the task at hand. Now the very task directly contradicted that philosophy and it was taking a disturbing toll on him.

Rather than being disgusted by her weakness, he pitied her struggle. An alien feeling to him, pity was something that was widely frowned upon in Noxus. It resembled the very epitome of weakness back at home. To bear it was shameful to any Noxian and Talon knew that to show it was a death sentence. Especially when the person that would see it, both hated him deeply and was Noxian.

Still, the feeling made him pause at the door to think about it long enough for a certain serpentine woman to half clamber, half slither her way across the room to the doorframe and open the door with great difficulty. It swung open with a loud creak that caused him to turn around as she repeated the word in a more exasperated tone.

"S-ssstay," it came as barely a whisper. Her efforts to reach a standing height took away her breath with voracity. She took a moment to catch her breath while looking into the eyes of her adopted brother. "Pleassse ssstay."

Something deep within him broke then. A whirlwind of contradictory emotions rose to the fore. Pity, regret, sadness, despair all rose to knot his throat. All whilst he stared dumbly back into her face. He had no response as a thousand emotions arose amidst the countless memories of merciless murders and silent slaughters. He felt the pressure of the sentiment rise and knot deep in his chest, as he managed to force a curt and silent nod.

Without a word he lifted one of her arms over his shoulder to support her once more, the other hand still holding the soup bowl and spoon. Escorting her back to the bed, he helped her lay down before placing the bowl upon a small, makeshift desk on the other side of the room. Turning to face her once more, he realised why he felt so choked up. She was just as he was once. Alone of her own design, just like he was. A beast with the potential to be a mindless weapon, just like he was. In that moment of clarity he decided that she would never have to be like him. Another murderer for the Noxian War Machine. She would never become another mindless weapon to serve but another 'Noble' House of Noxus. No matter what. He thought he knew why Marcus had specifically chosen him to bring her back.

"Hmph. Old fool." he muttered under his breath as he came to sit on the edge of the small cot. He was already loyal to the man. Few could have given him both the amount of entertainment and good living that Marcus had given over the years. And the man knew it. There was no reason for another test of loyalty.

"Lay down," a feminine voice commanded through his haze of thought. He did so uneasily. She was a notorious temptress, but with the changes in her physiology and the mental instability that she was clearly suffering from, he was reluctant to put himself in a position to compromise his safety. From her and, especially, from her father.

What managed to surprise him yet again was the fact that the anticipated advance never came. Rather, she laid her own head down in the crook of his shoulder and snuggled into his side with her back to him. Her brown hair, freed from her headdress, pooled wildly over his clothed chest and into the scant space between them while she squeezed his arm in an embrace.

"Calm down you wretch. I won't be able to get to sssleep if your heart keepsss beating that loud," she said, her usual attitude toward him beginning to show itself again. "Alssso, if you think I'd fornicate with a dirty Noxxxian sslum dog, then you'd be _dangerousssly_ missstaken."

He tensed momentarily and then relaxed with a low chuckle. She wouldn't hurt him. He was all she had right now. Right now she actually cared about him and he realized he cared for her as well. She may not have shown it ever before, but now her impenetrable mask had finally fallen and, in this moment, he was family. He was all she had. Feeling warmth swell within his chest, no doubt due to the outburst of new emotions swirling through his mind, he turned onto his side and pulled her closer to him. He closed his eyes and calmed his heart rate as she futilely protested and squirmed in his arms.

"Hey! What do you thhhink you're doing?!" She loudly repeated the phrase from earlier. If she hadn't lost her voice earlier that week with all her sobbing and crying, her shouting, no doubt, would have brought attention to the room. "Let me go!"

"Calm down Cass. I won't be able to get to sleep if you keep it up," his words caused her to stiffen and stop. He never addressed her directly, especially with her name, due to the unspoken superiority complex she had, so the words that escaped him now bore weight from both, that fact, and the situation. A slight smile tugged upon both their faces, invisible to each other.

The darkness of sleep began to creep in on both of them as Cassiopeia's breathing slowed and Talon was left thinking about why exactly had he been the one chosen to retrieve Marcus's daughter. It dawned on him several minutes later and he grunted partly in contempt, partly in admiration.

 _Love. What a bothersome thing._ He thought as he too fell into a content sleep, a smug smile still upon his face.

* * *

 **A/N:** Hey guys Neo here with another Ships chapter. Had a bit of trouble with this one and just my writing in general but I really do hope you guys enjoy it. If not leave a review of what I could improve on and all that jazz. I have another chapter in the pipeline so there should be another update soon(ish) but then again I've said that before and... well yeah. But anyway hope you all like it and review it your thoughts. Until next time, this has been Neo with another Neoslate production. Cya guys


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